The Part Where You Let Go
by Batsy Rocks
Summary: [Soulmates AU] Bruce Wayne have Superman's first words engraved in his skin. Kal-El doesn't have Batman's. {Gen or pre-slash.} [Revised Version]


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Justice League or any of its characters. Really, I don't.

 ***** Some minor edits done in 2017. Nothing that changes the story, just a few bits added and others edited.

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Clark flew into the Batcave, heart hammering against his chest as he stopped, hovering just a couple of feet away from the man sitting in front of the bank of monitors. He had hesitated momentarily before crossing the city limit and had paused once again before crossing the aerial space surrounding Wayne Manor, knowing Bruce would know of his presence the moment he did so.

He hadn't seen Bruce since Batman glared and growled his way out of the medical bay in the Watchtower almost a week ago since he couldn't simply stalk off like he always did with a broken leg. Against J'onn's advice, as well as Clark and Diana's insistence, the stubborn man teleported to the Batcave only two days after receiving medical attention after a serious incident.

Clark had been unable to stop thinking about his discovery ever since, almost desperate to have this conversation and dreading the mere thought in equal measures.

"Should you be down here already?" He asked, filling the silence.

"I'm fine."

Clark felt his lips twitch a little. "Somehow, I don't think Alfred agrees with you."

"Hmph," Bruce huffed without looking at him.

The reporter took the time to watch his friend carefully. Even though the dark gray pants and t-shirt made him look paler, there was no doubt he looked better. The cast was still there, so his leg was propped up in a chair, a pillow tucked underneath. There were also lingering bruises all over his body, and the broken ribs seemed to be healing alright. Clark carefully kept his eyes away from Bruce's right shoulder blade.

"Stop scanning me."

"Sorry," Clark murmured, lifting his eyes to Bruce's face. "Are you busy?"

"I always am." Bruce's fleeting, pointed look at his feet made him realize he was still hovering. His red boots touched the cave's ground only a second later.

"There's something we need to talk about."

Bruce didn't answer as slim, deft fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up documents and skimming through data. Annoyance was starting to mix with Clark's anxiety and hesitation. This was already hard enough. Did he have to make this even more difficult? Then again Bruce had no idea what he wanted to talk about and, well. He was Bruce. He _always_ made things harder.

Clark uncurled his fingers slowly, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited in silence, his head a mess of whirling thoughts and heart still beating fast. He was frozen on the spot and couldn't make the words he needed to say come out.

Bruce kept working, clearly expecting Clark to say whatever it was he had come to say and leave. He would have kicked him out by now if he were working on something urgent, though, so Clark allowed himself to relax- but just barely.

A couple of minutes passed before Bruce's patience worn out and he swirled slightly in his chair to face Clark as best as he could, mindful of his injured leg. He said nothing for a second; sharp, narrowed blue eyes scanning the Kryptonian's face.

"Alright, what is it."

Clark took a shaking breath, eyes flickering away from Bruce's face for a second before forcing himself to meet them again before speaking.

 _"I didn't come here for you, and I'm not leaving because you tell me to."_

Bruce went perfectly still as soon as the first words left Clark's mouth, blue eyes shifting away from his face to glare somewhere behind Clark's shoulder. By the time all the words were out Bruce had schooled his face into a familiar mask, his expression carefully blank.

It wasn't enough to fool Clark. Not when he knew Bruce like he did, and not when his enhanced senses picked the way his heart skipped a beat as well as a couple of other minute reactions he had no way to control.

They were the first words Clark -Superman- had said to him on a shadowy rooftop in Gotham almost five years ago. The same words imprinted on Bruce's right shoulder blade in a white and curvy small lettering. His words.

Clark had no trouble to remember the details of that first meeting, even if it wasn't until a few days ago that he accidentally discovered how crucial that moment truly was.

"Get out of my city." Batman had growled back then as soon as he saw him, rising to his full height in one fluid motion from where he was perched on a rooftop.

'He's human' that was the first thought that crossed Clark's mind as soon as he scanned the black-clad figure before him. He refrained from peeking beneath the cowl with his x-ray vision, though, knowing how unfair that would have been. Not that it would have mattered since, as he later found out, the cowl had been lined with lead then.

Of course, Batman had been prepared for an eventual first meeting with Superman.

The way Batman stood up to him in spite of being only human was impressing, and it made Clark look at the vigilante with a new found respect as he hovered before the admittedly imposing figure, his dark cape swirling around him like leather wings, radiating self-confidence and power. Even so, there had been more important things at stake that night, and he couldn't lose time playing nice or trying to convince the other man to let him stay.

"I didn't come here for you, and I'm not leaving because you tell me to."

At the time, Clark attributed the sudden and almost imperceptible changes that only someone with his powers would have noticed to anger or contempt from the Bat's part as a result of his refusal to comply with the man's order.

Now he knew the truth.

"Not when there's a group of insane men that need to be caught," Clark continued, keeping his gaze fixed on the opaque lenses covering the man's eyes. "I cannot simply step aside while they keep hurting innocent people. We can put this aside and work together to stop them or I will be forced to take you in as well if you try to stop me."

Batman's lips curled into something like a snarl as he kept glaring at him. Clark could feel it even behind the lenses, but he didn't back down. After a moment, the dark figure retrieved his grappling gun and shot a line onto the roof of a nearby building, gliding into the shadows without a word.

They parted ways and remained that way as they worked, and while each of them rounded up a fair number of henchmen and saved people, they did end up working together that night.

It was Batman how caught the Joker, but he needed Superman's help to find and take care of the bombs the maniac clown had hidden over the city. Joker merely stated that they had been placed on 'fun' places, a grotesque grin on his painted face as he said it.

Once the bombs had been neutralized an emergency in South America demanded Clark's attention, and so they parted ways without so much as a nod of acknowledgment.

With the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, Clark wet his dry lips, looking back at the still and silent Bruce.

"You could have told me."

"And why would I tell you something that is none of your business," He asked quietly, head tilted to the side.

Bruce was defensive, but that was okay. Clark had expected that. Still, the reply did surprise him. "How can you say that?"

"I say it because it's the truth. Because you don't have my words engraved in your skin."

It was Clark's turn to frown. "How do you know that?"

"Because if you did, you wouldn't be asking me why I didn't say anything. You would know."

They fell into a tense silence then, not quite meeting each other's eyes.

Absently, Clark considered the fact Bruce hadn't asked how he found out. But he supposed that wasn't a mystery worthy of the World's Greatest Detective. He was here just a few days after Batman was treated in the Watchtower, not to mention he hadn't been around the med bay much while Bruce stayed there, swinging by his room or having glaring contests to force him to stay in bed, like other times when Batman had been injured.

"I didn't say anything because this has nothing to do with you. Soulmates and bonds aren't something you should care about. You are not human, Clark. It doesn't matter how human you act or how much you love this planet and its people. You're an alien, and this is just another difference between humans and kryptonians."

He wasn't trying to hurt him, he knew that. After all, Bruce could be one of the cruelest people Clark had ever met when he wanted to be, and he wasn't even trying now. That didn't mean his words didn't hurt.

Being an alien in a world he considered his own was something he would never be able to ignore, not with the many differences he could see every day, but soul bonds and soulmates had always been a sensitive subject for him. Having been raised by a happily bonded couple, Clark grow up seeing just how beautiful and deep the bond between soulmates could be, yearning and mourning words engraved in his invulnerable skin that would signal he could form that kind of connection with someone.

It had taken him a long time to come to terms-as much as he could-with the fact he was never going to have what his parents had, and now _this_ happened.

The Fortress database turned up nothing to help explain a soulbond between kryptonians and humans, nor the notion of a partial or half bond, even between two humans. There were no records of a person having a mark with someone's words and the other person having someone else's or not having one at all. Humans had each other's words, that was the only way identifying marks worked.

Jor-El, on the other hand, had been adamant in his refusal to accept even the possibility of such bond existing between the two species. He had no explanation to give for what was happening but insisted on the impossibility of it.

It was ... too much. All of it. And this talk wasn't helping him in the slightest.

"How can you be so clinical about this? Acting like you don't care."

"Because I don't, Clark. For me, this is nothing but one more mark in an endless collection of marks left by knives and bullets on a regular basis."

Clark opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. It hurt to hear Bruce compare identifying marks- _his_ mark to something meant to hurt him.

While it was truth that the vast majority of the population still regarded soul bonds and identifying marks at a high value and as something sacred, Bruce's indifference to it all wasn't exactly controversial. There were growing groups of people who thought in a similar manner, even if it was frowned upon by the largest, most conservative groups. There were people who ignore entirely the words printed on their bodies (pushing aside and disregarding devastated soulmates in most of the cases) or soulmates that had no problem cutting ties and breaking up if the relationship didn't work.

It even exist fairly simple procedures to remove identifying marks, even if they were illegal in some states or even whole countries. It made Clark feel sick. Hollow. That a person could pay to have something so important removed. Something he couldn't have, no matter how much he wished he did. He swallowed, meeting the piercing blue eyes looking at him.

"Why didn't you get it removed if you feel that way? Like the press says you did."

"I thought about it," Bruce's shoulders shrugged in a smooth movement. "I was already training out of Gotham when I got it, so there would be no scandal or risk of any of it being filtrated to the press."

"And yet, you didn't."

"No, I didn't. I decided there was no point in erasing it when I already knew the words."

Clark thought about the possibility of Bruce actually following through with that idea. If he had removed the mark on his skin, taking away the chance of him ever finding out about it. Bruce hadn't said anything when he realized they were Clark's words, and it was more than obvious he had no intention of ever telling him.

By all rights, it shouldn't affect him. He had known about this for only a few days now, and as much as it pained him to admit it, there was some truth to Bruce's claims that this had nothing to do with him.

Still, the tangle of emotions the confession brought took Clark by surprise. Anger, betrayal, hurt, sadness ... all directed at Bruce, for something he hadn't even done. Something Clark had no right to judge him for, even if he had. He shook his head to try to clear the thoughts from his mind.

It made sense, he supposed that Bruce would be as logical and cold-headed about this as he was about anything else. He wasn't even sure what he had expected, coming here to talk about something Bruce obviously hadn't wanted him to know, much less talk about. In fact, he probably should be content with what he had gotten out of Bruce so far, and the fact he hadn't simply shut down and ignored or kicked him out.

That was something, at least.

"Why did you come here, Clark."

"I, uh, well," Clark flickered his eyes away. "I just thought this was something we should, you know, talk about."

Bruce went silent for a long moment, narrowed eyes searching Clark's face. His face got that look of his, the look that made you feel he was the one with the x-ray vision, looking right through you. Only that instead of seeing cells and bone structure, he could see into your soul and see your very core. Clark barely held back a shudder.

"What do you want, Clark."

"I- I don't want anything. I just..."

Bruce nodded as if any of what he said made sense. "You came here because you thought that was what you were supposed to do."

Once again Clark said nothing. He knew they had to talk about this, even as he flew away from the Watchtower in panic only moments after seeing the mark, but he hadn't really taken the time to question why it was so important.

"Clark, you need to get past this misplaced sense of duty or whatever it is you're feeling right now. Just because I have this mark doesn't mean you owe me anything or that you're under any obligation toward me." Bruce's piercing eyes looked at him. "You don't have to sacrifice any part of who you are or your life because of this. I wouldn't let you."

"That's not what I-"

 _"Oh, please._ Tell me the notion of responding to this bond-thing like most people do with regular bonds didn't cross your mind, regardless of the fact you have never shown any physical or romantic interest in me. Or that you wouldn't have agreed if I suggested we tried to make this work somehow."

Clark's silence was answer enough.

Bruce pitched the bridge of his nose. "Clark, I- I appreciate this. I do. It's very noble and very- very you, but it's unnecessary. You know me, Clark," Bruce added with a grimace, uncomfortable as always with any personal talk. "Do you honestly think I would let some higher power or whatever dictate anything about my life."

A faint smile tugged at Clark's lips, his shoulders relaxing. "No. Of course not. You're the goddamn Batman."

"Damn straight." The corner of Bruce's lips twitched minutely upward before he turned sober again. "I'm not saying this only because it's you. The moment I chose _this,_ I gave up having a normal life, and this is just a part of that. I wouldn't have reacted differently if it had been someone else."

Piercing blue eyes watched him. "Tell me you understand."

"I do," Clark said after a moment, letting out a breath. "I understand. This is just ... a lot to take in, I guess. I had no idea this was even possible. Any of it."

"I ... was surprised too."

Clark chuckled softly at the admission, earning a mild glare from Bruce. "Well, that's a first."

Bruce said something in reply, but Clark didn't hear what it was because something else caught his attention. Force of habit more than necessity made him tilt his head to the side as he listened to the muffled cries for help and the hissing, crackling sound beneath it.

"What is it."

The familiar voice made Clark turn back to Bruce, who had, of course, picked up in the change on his demeanor and was already on high alert, ready to act even with a broken leg. "There's a fire in an apartment building."

Bruce nodded, but Clark still lingered a second longer. Whatever had made Bruce speak so openly about this-at least for him because this was Bruce and getting him to talk about anything non-Batman related was next to impossible- would be over the moment he flew out of the cave, he just knew it.

This issue will get buried, like so many other unfinished talks between them have been.

He hesitated, but only for a second, before flying out of the cave at full speed with a last glance at Bruce's face.

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 **a/n:** First off, I'm so, so sorry for anyone waiting an update on my other stories. I haven't abandoned any of them, but as I'm sure you have noticed, I'm not a very constant writer. The plan right now is to have the next chapter of the Teen!Batman AU up next, and then finally go back to _A Blurred Reflection_ and its overly due last chapter, so please stick with me for a bit longer.

As for this fic, well. The whole soulmate-identifying marks trope is one I have been interested in for a while now, even when I didn't have any plot bunnies nor plans to write anything using it. It wasn't until a week ago or so that I got this idea and well, I love angst so I just couldn't resist. Also, I don't know much about this trope, so I took some liberties with it.

I deliberately let things vague (or at least I think I did) to give you the chance to interpret what is going on in whatever way you want to. Is the bond mutually unrequited? One-sided? Or totally the opposite? You guys get to decide! And I would love to hear what you think, of course!

English is not my native language, so any tips or corrections are welcome.


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